


Old

by McLen



Category: Die Ärzte
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLen/pseuds/McLen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s late and he isn’t thinking properly. How else would one explain those silly little thoughts that keep resurfacing every time he is almost hitting sleep. Set in 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growing old

It’s late and he isn’t thinking properly. How else would one explain those silly little thoughts that keep resurfacing every time he is almost hitting sleep. How else could one possibly explain those  _childish_ fantasies he is having, this utter lack of self control. No, this isn’t like him, he has never been childish, not like that, not where it matters, never, not even when he  _was_ a child.  
  
Jan doesn’t know why he can’t stop his thoughts, but he has a pretty good idea why he is thinking them in first place. It’s the upcoming tour, with all it’s anticipation, the knowledge that he’ll be together with Bela for the better part of the next year. This or the sudden . . . rush? Emotion? Life? Bela has brought into his life after the recording for their latest single.   
  
Rush, he thinks sarcastically, of course everything is now and full of rush and emotions now that his mind has degraded into the one of a four year old’s. And it’s not like in a fucking movie. This is the grown up version of a soap opera. The one where you only halfly realize that your friendship might be a tick more than just that, when it is way passed too late. He has never had a problem with relationship after relationship failing, he is a loner after all, and difficult, too, yes oh so difficult. And it’s not that he isn’t happy, he isn’t unhappy and that is- after living almost half a century something. Really something. He thinks he is as content as he could be in a world where dictators kill off their people on a daily basis. And he thinks he knew what he wanted- knew everything there was to know about life and death and hopes and goals, until the very day Bela just happened to smile at him. That stupid day. And that was it. That was all, it took only one ridiculous grin from Bela, the very same smile he has given him oh so many times before- just one stupid smirk to put his world upside down, to pull the rug out from under his feet.   
  
His fingers touch the cold china and he sighs despite himself. Patiently he gets up, graciously picks up the cup and walks back into the kitchen to brew another tea. As he waits in front of the kettle his eyes accidently catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He looks old. Maybe it’s because of the light, he thinks, or the lack of, he hasn’t bothered switching it on and his reflections’ face is lit up only by the kettles red dim light. His cheekbones cast deep shadows and his eyes seem darker still. His face is harsh and edgy, deep lines splitting white skin and the blonde hair looks pale even without the traces of grey that would have been there if he hadn’t dyed it for the tour. He casts his eyes down, away from the reflection and tries to focus on the kettle, the slowly forming steam, on the easy things, the practical the ones he can handle. Not of Bela’s green eyes that keep reappearing no matter how hard he tries to shut them out, these eyes that still seem to sparkle as much as they did when they were only seventeen. The youth these eyes still hold and the promise youth carries, when life is still young and everything seems possible and there is still hope.


	2. Feeling old

They are sitting on the couch, knees touching, Bela’s side snuggled against him. He can smell his shampoo, can feel how he is breathing. The movie that’s playing in front of them, an old horror flip, was Bela’s idea, and he is all concentrated and entertained and glued to the screen. Bela leans forward elbows on his knees, hand holding his head, fingers slipping between his lips, unconsciously biting nails. His face an open book, mirroring his emotions from excited over amused to downright touched. Jan loves this, loves how open Bela is that he’s never hiding his feelings, never hiding behind a mask always so naively honest and open it almost  _hurts_. And then Bela giggles and it turns into laughter and Jan can feel it, feel the vibration in his body. He turns his head and looks at him then, although it isn’t smart or safe or anything but he just doesn’t care, and Bela doesn’t notice anyway, he’s too fixed on that shabby movie. And when Bela laughs once more and his eyes light up when he does Jan can’t help himself and keeps staring. He doesn’t want this to end. Not the movie, nor the evening nor- He’d be fine watching Bela for the rest of his life watching his enthusiastic innocence and sharing it and- Bela places an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close, tugs at him until he is practically lying in Jan’s lap, head nuzzled in the crook of his shoulder, Jan’s arms tightly wrapped around him.   
  
‘That’s better,’ Bela says gives him a sheepish grin and continues watching the movie and Jan can suddenly hear the sound of his heart beating in his ears. A few months ago he would have replied something like  _Married life is getting to you._ or  _If you wanna bang me, let’s move over to my bedroom, please, I’m far too old for this shit, Bela._ But now any witty remark is stuck in his strangely dry throat and all he does in return is squeeze one of Bela’s arms and pull him closer.  
  
Bela continues watching the movie and Jan continues watching Bela. His mind is busy thinking, developing different scenarios, fantasies of places and words and actions and consequences, they always differ but they always have the same ending. Bela is not his, and he can never be, the time when something like that would have been possible has long since passed. Back then, if he had felt like that all those years ago, when they were still young- maybe then. . . And maybe they would have failed miserably. Probably. They are far too different for a working friendship, leave alone a relationship. No, they simply wouldn’t have worked and he would have lost ‘Die Ärzte’ and that alone was unthinkable. And anyway he didn’t fancy him back then, why would he? It always ever was just Bela.   
  
Bela is nudging him, probably accidently, he seems to have fallen asleep on top of it all. Pressing his face closer into his chest. Jan resists the urge to caress him, to push a hand into his hair, to feel the soft strands between his fingers. He resists the urge to take the other hand and interlace their fingers, like lovers do- or soon to be lovers or. . . Instead he just sighs quietly and listens to the noise of the TV.  
  
Christian Lindner is making a particularly bad argument even for a candidate of a not nearly two percent party- a liberal party at that. Jan has to laugh when the Hannelore Kraft just points out the contradiction of his latest statement and Silvya Löhrmann makes a snide remark. He feels Bela moving then, body becoming restless and slowly waking up. When he does Bela blinks a few times and looks at him drowsily before he smiles and gives him a warm laughter that feels like a soft caress. Jan smiles back and for a second their being so unlike each other, so not compatible, so old and drained, so never-ever-going-to-be doesn’t seem to matter. He kisses Bela’s temple and the other one gives him a content hum in return. They linger there, lips brushing against soft hair, tenderly caressing the warm skin. Borders seem to be fading, distances to be melting and boundaries to be shifting. It’s all in flux, all certain things seem changeable if he just leans in a bit closer, takes this one step, if he just. . . But he can’t and then the moment has passed and Bela closes his eyes again and goes back to sleep and Jan wants to scream.


	3. Being old

He knows he shouldn’t do this, he knows it the second he leans down to meet Bela’s lips in a kiss. When he meets them and feels the soft dry lips pressed against his, he knows that this will destroy everything. When he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, and pushes his tongue inside the other ones he can see tomororrow’s Bela in front of his inner eyes; his sad eyes, his wounded look, the betrayal forming on his lips. But he doesn’t care, he pushes those pictures away just like he pushes inside this hot, wet mouth, hungrily wrapping his tongue against Bela’s, sucking desperately, trying to deepen the kiss further until he runs out of air and has to break the kiss gasping and then diving in again. He presses his eyes shut, he doesn’t want to know whether Bela’s are open and if he is witnessing this, he hopes they aren’t but he can’t be sure, and he can’t continue if they aren’t and he can’t stop anyway. 

It’s all happening in a rush now, Bela’s limb body beneath him, impassively letting it happen, motionless being pushed further and further, stumbling backwards, following without resistance, being led into Jan’s bedroom. Jan moves blindly, his mouth busy kissing, his hands eagerly tugging and roaming and there’s sweat beneath his palms and salvia in his mouth, and he moans and he scratches soft skin under his nails and it’s not enough, not enough, never enough. And then Bela stops, because the back of his legs touch the bed, and it excites Jan and he knows there is no going back now and he pushes Bela down on the clean white sheets and crawls on top of him. He has to open his eyes now because the buttons are tricky and he needs to get the shirt off, now. 

He avoids Bela’s gaze and just looks at those scarlet swollen lips, that are still wet from kissing and it isn’t fair that this will be his only chance, and even less fair that he is reminded of that just now and that his bloody mind is never keeping quiet. He tugs at the buttons and groans impatiently and then Bela says ‘Jan’ and it sounds scared and broken and he can’t hear this not now not yet, not already and he covers Bela’s mouth and shuts him up, and he covers his body with his own, and he presses his eyes shut again and finishes the last button blindly. 

Bela feels even better than he thought he would, and he can’t stop his racing mind and throbbing heart and bloody groin because he is devouring Bela now, licking and biting eliciting moans from Bela despite everything. And he grins sucking skin between his teeth biting until he draws blood, and Bela jerks against him violently, bringing their pelvis together, thrusting and rubbing and moaning and Jan gets rid of their pants so he can feel and it’s too much, oh fucking god, too much. 

Bela beneath him, pale skin on white sheets, violet shirt loosely around his broad chest, tight black jeans pulled down to his knees, and he’s panting, bundle of slick and wet emotion, and Jan grins, because this is it and he can feel him now and it doesn’t matter that Bela’s eyes are glassy and not focusing as long as they are lust-filled, and it doesn’t matter that Bela doesn’t pant his name but mumbles another, because if this is the only way he is getting him then it has to be enough. 

He’s never done this before but it’s easy and he enters Bela without much resistance, Bela jerks into his touch clearly in pain, clearly longing for it, too, and Jan buries his head in Belas sweaty neck while he fucks him and feels close and far away at the same and wraps a hand around Belas cock, and it feels like heaven and he feels so close and he feels Bela come and that does it for him, and he explodes still breathlessly repeating Bela’s name again and again, like a fucking mantra.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Bela confronts him in yesterday’s clothes, hair still messy, face still dirty, looking in need of more than a shower and a cup of coffee, everything is as bad as Jan pictured it the other night. Or worse. Jan sits there holding on to his book, knuckles turning white while he clings to its back. His face is motionless his eyes calm, not giving a hint of his stormy inner tumult. He doesn’t even know why he stayed, why he didn’t leave, why he is sitting here and is waiting for the evitable punishment he is sure will follow.

Bela almost stumbles when he notices him, he is bad at covering his surprise and looks away quickly, as if the look itself burns him and stops. Jan doesn’t want to look either, doesn’t want to notice all those details that scream of his betrayal. The crouched shoulders, the down cast gaze, his whole posture drained of all energy. He wants to hug him, comfort him and tell him that everything will be okay in the end, but he isn’t entitled to that anymore. Has lost that at right the second he lost him and his friend and his self-respect and his future. 

Finally Bela raises his head, and Jan sees the lines in his face, the sadness in his eyes and he shivers.

‘I was drunk.’ Bela says, and it doesn’t even sound bitter or accusing, it just sounds hurt.

Bela waits but Jan doesn’t reply because there is nothing he can say. Bela is still open, still bearing his feelings in his face but with every passing second it’s changing and Jan doesn’t know if he just loses the capability of reading Bela or if Bela is shutting him out.

‘I was in need of a friend. . .’ Bela says finally and at the end of the sentence his voice breaks.

I trusted you. he doesn’t say, they both hear it anyway. 

‘Jan. . .’ he says and it’s a beg for him to reply.

But Jan can’t. The silence grows until it’s suffocating and Jan tries to find anything to say because the alternate would be impossible, and he reaches for words that wouldn’t come, and he panics and they move even further away and he is desperate but his face is still smooth not betraying any emotion. 

Borders seem to be raising, distances to be growing and boundaries to be shifting. It’s all in flux, all certain things seem changeable if he just can find the words, if he just can pull him into a hug and apologize for something inexcusable Bela might even forgive him, too, if he just takes this one step, if he just. . . But he can’t and then the moment has passed and Bela looks away. 

When he looks up again, his lips are stiff, his face a mask, his features cold and his eyes – his eyes are dull. And then he starts walking.


End file.
